Eren isn't really sure what it is about Levi that goes under his skin.
There definitely is something that makes him want to look at him and soak up everything Levi does, only to make it his own. Something that makes his whole body tingle with excitement, and that he can't really put a finger on.
Maybe it's because of the whole hero-worshipping thing. After all, he's been doing it ever since he was a child and first heard about Humanity's Strongest. About how powerful he was and how mighty. How skilful and how important to the entirety of humanity.
A shiny soldier in a shiny armour. The perfect man. Without fault.
He was everything Eren ever wanted to be. And then some.
Eren liked to imagine being him, strolling through the streets of Shingashina, pretending everyone backed away, because no one could take on him. His work was beyond the walls, his mind and body free. The perspective of being a member of the Survey Corps had become more and more appealing with every day.
It wasn't about fame or glory. Never about being honoured. It was the simple wish of protecting everyone he knew and loved. The wish of freeing them all from their cage, making them able to see the world and explore. About showing them that he wasn't a freak and that they'd all been wrong. Because the Titans still were a threat, even with the walls… and what did they know!
Admittedly, maybe it was a bit about being honoured after all.
However, the protecting and freeing part truly was his strongest drive. When Eren's whole world got crushed down and broke into pieces it was that drive that kept him together. That and his revenge. Together they spurred him on and his goal seemed ever so bright.
Then, years later, he'd seen Levi for the first time. Seen him again shortly after that in action as the whole world changed once again, and Eren knew in an instant that what he'd known all along had been true: Levi was the best. No one would ever be as quick as him, no one ever as strong…except for Mikasa, perhaps.
Surely, Levi sometimes reminds Eren of Mikasa, or vise versa, but Levi has a certain vigor and grace to him that Mikasa has not.
Eren had met Levi again, actually talked to him; and then there was that courtroom incident.
He never understood why everybody thought he should resent Levi after that. Truth is, he never did. Didn't back then and doesn't now. Can't. Won't! On the contrary. What happened that day fulfilled him his life-long dream. Eren would have done anything to learn from Levi. Everything.
So he did. He followed him, observed him, strived for everything he could get. If Levi was annoyed, he didn't show it and Eren picked up a lot.
He learnt, for example, that Levi is a lot of things, and already was back then. Yet against Eren's former beliefs, Levi isn't shiny. His armour is, admittedly—polished as it always is, and clean. Glimmering swords, neat boots, and shiny buttons on his jacket too. The man himself though, is everything but.
Levi is odd-looking. Not that it would ever matter, of course. Levi is simply Levi. Eren couldn't care less about how small he is, or how big his head, how tired his eyes are, or how calloused his hands. All of that only makes him even stronger, more fascinating. Eren doesn't care about how a man of that age and profession is supposed to look older, less boyish perhaps, and less…delicate.
He hears the others talk from time to time and has learnt to let them. So he listens quietly to their theories and jokes. They make him angry, these jokes. As do the insults.
"Rat," some venomous voices say. "Bastard."
Eren clenches his fists. What difference does it make where Levi supposedly comes from? What difference does it make whether he's been properly trained or not! Levi is the best in what they do and every time Eren watches him during training, listens to his lessons, or looks into these oddly colourless eyes that remind him of swords and storm and water, Eren knows he is right. The others know nothing about this man.
Levi is the strongest of them all. He's the best in combat. His muscles are quick and precise. His eyes seem to see everything and his mind is just as sharp. His reflexes are astounding, his endurance is as well. Levi trains them to be the best, doesn't hold back on correcting them and Eren is is greedy for it, wants to be like that as well. Just as strong, just as capable. Despite the cruelty they have to endure, being in the Survey Corps, standing next to Levi, fighting side by side, is all he ever wanted to do. Finally actually being here, is the most right Eren has ever felt. It's his purpose, his fulfillment, his destiny. Levi is the aim, the destination, and his path all at once. It's powerful and thrilling, exhilarating.
Eren is in awe, because the rumours were all true: the stories of the best of soldiers, and their hope in him. Sure enough, Eren himself is Humanity's Hope by name. Yet he wouldn't even be here without Levi to begin with. As far as Eren is concerned, Hope means a calm voice and a guiding hand in which he trusts.
Still, in all his perfection, even Levi has his flaws. What he has in the field of fighting, he admittedly lacks a bit in speech. Then again, talking is not what they do out there, is it? Also, it's not Levi's fault that the others don't really listen in the first place. Because if they would, Eren thinks, they'd have to accept that Levi talks perfectly fine. He's always got the exact right amount of words at the exact right time. Mostly, anyways.
Levi doesn't do superfluous conversation—or anything superfluous, really. He doesn't do ingratiation, or pleasantries. Levi is a direct force, and encountering him is like being hit with a hammer. Eren understands that, respects that, admires that. He's always has despised silly talk, meaningless promises, or false primness anyway. So many people simply say what they think out loud, like an endless stream of words without purpose. Levi doesn't. Every word is selected and weighed. On the rare occasions Levi praises Eren, it feels like elation, because Eren knows he's really done well. Anything less wouldn't be good enough for him.
Levi is the strongest in emotion too. When others cry after the battle or despair, Levi can walk on, head held high, and stare. He'd walk right past angry citizens whilst ignoring their spatted accusations. Eren never has been able to do that. To shrug off the scorn like Levi does, at least on the outside. Levi is the best in what they do, so Eren tries to get better in that field as well.
He doesn't know how Levi does it, but Eren likes to imagine he's improving.
He's proven wrong, when Jean says something stupid at lunch one day and Eren can't do anything else than punch him in his ugly face and yell.
Afterwards he fuses with regret and shame, which doesn't really make it better. He wants to grow up and be able to act like it too. Still, he can't help but being this imbecile sometimes. There's still such a long way for him to go. It's times like this, when he asks himself if he ever will become like Levi. If he'll ever become worthy.
Worthy of what exactly, he doesn't really know.
Sometimes Eren wonders why he is this way in the first place. What it is that drives him to the things he does. Like never giving up and throwing himself right back into training, again and again, no matter what. There's still that freedom. Of course there is—it has to be! He has to believe in it, or otherwise his whole life would lose its purpose. Or wouldn't it?
So Eren continues looking up at Levi.
He sees more with every day.
He sees that Levi has a soft side too. Or rather a caring and—against all spiteful rumours—a gentle one. Eren has known for a while that Levi loves animals. He's always talking to his mare, sometimes more than to other humans throughout the whole day. Levi's voice would have a different tone when he does so, lower and warmer. Affectionate.
Content, Eren realises. And then there is the cat. He's been seeing it around HQ for a couple of times, but only when he watches Levi giving her fresh water one day whilst feeding her old crumbs of cheese with that secretive smile which he usually never shows, Eren knows why the cat is so fond of this place. Watching them silently with a rising warmth in his chest, Eren starts to wonder if it applies to himself as well.
Levi cares for children too. He's always listening to them at the orphanage, not only hearing them, but actually listening in that serious way of his. He's asking them questions, or sometimes helps to repair the little toys they have with steady, skilful fingers. He is patient and wonderful that way. Eren thinks he's known that about Levi all along too.
Levi also has a sad side, and sometimes Eren fears it will consume him one day. It's in a certain blankness of the eyes every once in a while and in a way his shoulders tend to tense up and appear narrow and fragile, as if a mild gust of wind could blow him apart, or shatter his facade and make him crumble. It's in the way his silence gathers around him like a heavy cloud of dark despair from time to time. It's also in the way his fingers press against his head sometimes when Levi thinks nobody is looking.
Eren does look, however, and he begins to make sure that little things work. He starts to see that HQ is always clean and checks the results himself so Levi wouldn't have to worry too much. He learns how to brew tea correctly and trains even harder. He begins to talk more often to Levi, about work and random stuff alike, although when it comes to words, he's just as unskilled, just as awkward as the other man.
Despite their mutual clumsiness at conversation, they understand each other pretty well, though. Eren learns to tell a real joke from a deflecting one. He learns to read Levi even without speaking. He learns that his own smile seems to have a soothing effect on Levi, so he doesn't hold it back like he used to to appear more serious, more grown up.
He learns that Levi talks quite a lot actually, although it's without words mostly. Instead it's with little gestures and movements, the way his eyes would shine or darken barely noticeably. The many forms of Levi's frown that all have a certain attraction to Eren.
There's that absorbing frown when Levi hears or sees something that he finds interesting or worthwhile. There's that approving frown when his tea is brewed to perfection, or when the drills have went well. There's that serious frown when he's giving orders or receiving them, the deep one that means his foot is cramping, and that stormy one that tells he's got a headache. There's the concealing one when he's hiding a smile. The crinkly one that tells he's gotten no sleep again at night, and the shallow one that's, well, a regular, neutral frown without any real meaning.
Despite all the understanding, Levi simply irritates Eren. How he can be so calm all the time, even when he's angry! How he can go throughout a week without a single sign of happiness—can he not see that this world does have its beauties? How he can be this contradictory man with all his strength and his understanding, with all his steel and his heart that Eren sometimes thinks of late at night when he knows he should sleep, but can't. Simply can't!
Because he can tell Levi is lonely. It shouldn't be like that. It's completely wrong and unjust.
All the other soldiers have friends. Pals, partners, and companions they share their dreams with alongside all their hopes and fears. Their laughter and their tears. People they play pranks on and that share some warmth with them, simply because if they didn't, the world with its war and its cruelty would catch up on them. Without it, life would be cold and dark and devastating.
Levi has no one.
So Eren begins to poke Levi's foot with his own when he wants to talk. He once even manages to make Levi openly chuckle with a lame joke. Levi has dimples, Eren realises, as the thought occurs to him, that Levi should show them far more often, because they oddly become him.
They begin to take evening walks together. Sometimes silent, sometimes with a few shared words. When somehow that doesn't seem to be enough any more, they begin to spend their weekends together as well, using the shared time for some kind of dual practice which mostly is flying through the woods, or taking out the horses for a ride. Or sitting on the rooftop late at night, because Eren has found out that Levi never learnt to read the starry sky. It's good to give something back. To be able to teach something in return, and Levi is a quick learner.
Sometimes their elbows would brush and Eren would smile, because it feels like a much older friendship than it actually is; and a friendship it is. It is to Eren, has been for a while now. He can tell by the way Levi smiles at him in return that it is for him as well.
Still, Eren doesn't know what it is that winds him up like it does. His heart begins to race whenever Levi relaxes in his company and allows him a glimpse behind the usually so well-closed guards. Sometimes Eren's hands start to sweat while on other days his guts feel odd, as if he was sick or queasy. His heart seems to have a skittish will of its own lately too.
He begins to have restless nights, even more so than before, but now they aren't only filled with screams and horrors anymore. They are filled with images of tea and green cloaks flying through the woods. Of recollections of a low voice talking under a sky full of stars.
It only occurs to Eren, when he sits down one day at breakfast, his thoughts still busy with a dream he had. It has been odd, because nothing much had happened in it. All he'd been able to see was a pale warmth and then there'd been that chuckle. A warm breath against his ear with a hushed whisper of his name that had made him shiver.
It comes to him in a sudden flash when Levi enters the hall to take a seat opposite to Eren, as he always does these days. Levi's eyes fixate on Eren, not quite concealing an inquisitorial amusement at his shocked gape. After that it all happens very fast. Levi notices Eren's bright red ear lobes, because even after all the training in the world his rushing blood still can't keep a fucking secret, and there's a shift of the frown across the table from the slightly amused one to a puzzled one and then almost instantly an understanding and astonished one.
Grey eyes widen, shoulders stiffen. Meanwhile, all Eren can do is freeze as he stares back, swallowing when he realises that Levi is still there, looking, still frowning—curious now—and then tapping his fingers onto the table, one, two, three, and then once more. One, two, three.
Later, it says.
Confused, Eren frowns as well with a nod, and has to keep himself from jumping up in his chair when a knee suddenly nudges against his own in a silent question, before shifting away only barely so. Eren moves his own leg to tentatively nudge back, boldly letting his knee rest where it is. He looks straight back at Levi, who, by now, has begun to eat his breakfast as if nothing has happened.
Not even a minute has passed since Levi has entered the hall, but Eren's whole world has flipped over completely. His nerves are in uproar as he tries to comprehend and process what exactly happened. He also can't stop smiling.
"Eren," Levi says when he stands.
"Levi," he answers, only to be rewarded with the brief appearance of a dimple before Levi is gone. Eren makes haste to follow him for their weekend training.
He should have known that Levi would want to talk about it first.
They talk-not-really-talk for a long time. By the time they step into Levi's quarters for their habitual cup of tea, noon has melt into afternoon. Levi is still frowning.
It reminds Eren of the day Levi had admitted to not know any of the stellar constellations: the defiant tension of his jaw, the defensive way his arms are folded. His fingers twitch, and there's a restlessness in his eyes that tells Eren it is nervousness.
Somehow this is what makes Eren courageous enough for the both of them. He shakes his head in an unsaid "enough," takes a step forward and holds the flitting eyes. There he waits, waits until the arms loosen their fold around Levi's chest and drop. Only then he steps even closer until their bodies almost touch, still not saying a word and yet knowing Levi understands him anyway.
I'm not afraid. Not of you, not of this. I respect you, trust you, admire you, would do anything. Tell me to stop and I will.
Levi exhales. The air is filled with Eren's unspoken name against his lips and Eren wants to laugh and cry and burst and shatter all at once, because this is his permission.
Levi's hand is cool in his as Eren reaches for it. His hair is silky-soft, and his muscles are hard as they press their bodies together. Levi truly is small, but maybe that's a good thing, Eren muses, because Levi is already overwhelming as he is. As he looks up at Eren only a moment before their lips meet, his eyes still remind Eren of swords, metal, and fighting. It's all Eren wants, all he'll ever need.
Kissing is like learning how to talk all over again. It's stumbling and incoherent at first, learning by doing and not really failing, but bumping, smiling, and trying anew. Anew. And anew, until it is easy and effortless. It's a bit like learning how to fight as well. Learning to trust his body whilst trying to remain on his feet as they begin to seemingly dissolve, until every move feels like flying. Levi's thumb traces a line of fire across Eren's hipbone, making Eren whimper, shudder, and catch Levi's bottom lip with his teeth to tease back. Then their tongues meet, and Eren almost loses control in a constant repetition of yes, yes, yes, oh god, please, yes!
Everything is too much. The sensation of his skin being too tight and too hot at once. The mere look of Levi, and his taste, his scent, his ragged breath. His body under Eren's hands as they begin to undress each other. Eren doesn't really notice anything apart from losing himself in firm paleness and a stormy grey as he tries to reciprocate everything he receives, stubbornly refusing to be passive. In hindsight he can't really say if it was better to be touched, or to touch in return, but he remembers Levi's hesitation to let go and only doing so after a whispered "please," followed by the feeling of freefalling as one.
He remembers being sticky together and giggling about it. Unguarded smiles and soft eyes, and finding out about how much Levi likes to get his back stroked while he nuzzles into Eren's embrace, feet ice-cold, arms enveloping. Lips sweet and kisses lazy, going on and on and yet going nowhere in particular this time. Tongues tracing, mouths exploring, fingers curling. Stomachs pooling with saturation and content at a mumbled "good night." It's so much more than Eren had ever hoped for, yet it's surprisingly simple too.
Easy.
Eren knows he should be scared. They've lost too many people to believe it will last forever. Instead he lets his hand possessively wander over Levi's spine as he gently presses their bodies even closer against each other, feeling drunk on Levi in his arms, in his lungs, in his blood.
His doting smile widens even more when Levi relaxes against his chest while his breath becomes even and deep. Eren checks that a knife is nearby to protect them both during the night before he closes his eyes as well, dragging in a wonderful mix of tea, soap, black hair, and hope.
Eren still isn't really sure what it is about Levi that goes under his skin. Yet maybe, is his last, lazy thought before he drifts away into his own dreams, that is okay. It is what it is.
Tomorrow they can start finding out. Together.